My heart beat hard against my ribs as I slid the green string off the bundle. There were three letters from the county courthouse, a bank ledger sheet showing the land transfer of the north pasture, and then the long, official envelope with the military return address from Fort Meade.
The military envelope was addressed to Daniel’s father, but the top edge had been torn open roughly, unlike Clara’s usual neat way with a letter opener.
Inside the envelope, there was no letter, only the empty paper smelling faintly of the lavender from Clara’s desk.
“Martha?” Clara’s voice called out from the kitchen, her precise footsteps beginning to move down the hallway. “Do you want sugar in yours?”
I slid the empty envelope into the deep pocket of my sweater just as her shadow crossed the threshold.
“No sugar, Clara,” I said, turning around and resting my hands on the back of the wicker chair.
She entered carrying the silver tray, her eyes sweeping over the desk for a brief second before she set the glasses down.
“You look flushed, sister,” Clara said, handing me a glass. “Perhaps we should skip the sewing today and let you rest.”
